


Point of Origin

by bgoodg



Category: Social Network (2010), Zombieland (2009)
Genre: Action/Adventure, M/M, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-15
Updated: 2011-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:05:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bgoodg/pseuds/bgoodg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the kink meme prompt, Eduardo wakes up one day in Zombieland; apparently he has one friend. Columbus looks like Mark but he is definitely not Mark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Point of Origin

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a work of fiction based off of movie personas. These events are fake and not intended to defame any real people.

It's a crash that wakes Eduardo. The strange bedding and abstract painting immediately disorient him. But then Eduardo remembers the lawsuit, the hotel he's reserved, and the sense of dislocation that comes with living from a suitcase. Eduardo sinks back into the hotel mattress. The covers roll under his chin and he figures it's best to fall back asleep.

There's another crash outside that Eduardo ignores. If it's something serious, hotel management can take care of it; Eduardo has enough on his hands. The silence lasts for a couple of minutes, just enough time for him to relax until there's another sound. This time it's a knock, knock, knock. It's not the rasp of a general manager or the tap of a nervous hotel resident.

"Who's there?" Eduardo's voice cracks on the question. He sits up, pulling back the covers and setting his feet on the sterile carpet.

There are three more knocks instead of an answer. Eduardo shuffles from the bed to the door, looking through the tiny peephole. From the small circle, he can't see anything.

Eduardo steps back, looking at the provided digital clock and seeing it's three o'clock in the morning. He has to be back at the deposition in five hours. His sigh is interrupted by another knock.

He unlocks the top lock, sliding back the deadbolt to crack open the hotel door. Left then right, he looks down the hallway and doesn't see anything. Eduardo is ready to dismiss the whole thing when bony fingers clamp onto his bare ankle.

"Shit!" He falls back into the room, leg kicking and arms propelling him backwards.

The fingers are attached to a scrawny arm full of blood and exposed tendons. The face is opened in a perpetual scream with the lower part of the jaw swinging forward every time the corpse draws itself closer. And it is a corpse. Eduardo can't describe the body in any other way even if the rational part of his brain is wondering why there's a corpse in the hotel hallway or why its hand is on Eduardo's ankle. Zombie! His brain supplies helpfully.

"Motherfucker." Eduardo kicks with his foot, striking the corpse in the head. There's a sickening thump when the eye socket crumples in but the zombie's grip is loosened and Eduardo yanks his foot free. He scrambles up, not believing what his eyes are seeing but knowing he wants the corpse out of his room. Eduardo kicks until the body is in the hall, slamming the door shut, locking it and jamming a chair under the handle.

There's a few quick breaths and moments of pacing before Eduardo asks the empty room, "what the fuck?"

***

Depositions the next day are hell, even more so than a normal day of suing your best friend. Eduardo answers all the questions that are asked of him, looking somewhere over Mark's shoulder instead of in his eyes. One of Mark's lawyers, the younger lady with her assortment of gray power suits, keeps glancing over and giving him worrying looks throughout the day. Eduardo wonders if he really looks that bad.

At the hotel, he looks up zombies on an online dream dictionary. He reads just enough to realize it's complete bullshit.

Eduardo orders room service and breaks into the mini bar. By nine it's pretty obvious the mini bar isn't going to be enough so Eduardo runs across the street to the liquor store. A six-pack later and Eduardo's sure he'll have a dreamless sleep.

***

Eduardo wakes and knows he's in a dream. It's the same hotel room but there's something off about it, something even more telling than the stain of blood and guts that's embedded in the carpet. Eduardo doesn't bother getting out of bed. Now that he knows what's waiting for him he doesn't see the point. Instead he rolls over, finding the remote to turn on the TV but getting nothing but static.

"Fantastic," he says. Eduardo turns to the ceiling, looking at the white walls and wondering if it's possible to fall asleep in a dream. He's contemplating it when there's another knock on the door.

"Fuck off!" Eduardo yells. He's not falling for that again.

There's a second of silence before someone says, "I can respect that. And normally I wouldn't push the matter but there are a couple of zombies out here looking to eat me and I'd appreciate the help."

Eduardo bolts up, running to the door and throwing back the locks. A small curly haired figure runs past him, turning around to help Eduardo shut the door against the tide of zombies trying to get their way in. They manage to press their weight and lock the door before Eduardo realizes who's with him.

"Mark?"

Mark turns to look at him. He's dressed the same way, jeans, t-shirt, hoodie. No flip-flops but Eduardo figures they're pretty impractical when running from zombies. Then again they were impractical when there was a foot of snow on the ground.

"Mark, what's going on?"

Mark looks at him again, confusion etched across a face that's more open than Mark's ever was. He extends an awkward hand and says, "Hi, I'm Columbus."

***

Eduardo sits across from Mark the next day. They talk about the chicken like children squabbling on the playground. The lawyers go over every detail, every line of Eduardo's embarrassment.

It's exhausting.

He eats dinner in front of his computer, slurping the spaghetti and surfing his favorite blogs with one hand. He has a beer and watches MSNBC, turning the TV off when they start talking about the lawsuit. Eduardo shuffles to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He spits in the sink, looking up and seeing Mark behind him.

"So thanks for saving me again," the Mark look alike says.

Eduardo wipes his mouth on the hotel washcloth. He must have fallen asleep on the couch. "No problem," Eduardo says, "what was your name again?"

"Columbus."

Eduardo turns around, folding his arms and leaning against the marble sink. "Why do I get the feeling that's not your real name?"

"Most people prefer not to use their real names," Columbus says. "It's usually where they're from or what city they're traveling to."

"And you're going to Ohio?"

Columbus nods his head, untamed curls bouncing up and down in yes. "What about you?"

"Miami I guess," Eduardo says after a few seconds of consideration. Despite Dustin's insistence, Eduardo's never thought about his zombie survival plan. If the world went to shit, well, that kind of already happened to Eduardo and no planning had seemed to help.

"Miami is nice," Columbus says.

Eduardo pushes himself off of the counter, brushing past Columbus and crashing on his bed. He lays himself long ways with his loafers sticking off the end of the bed. "So, zombies."

He's aware it's a dream. That the projection across from him is just his subconscious's vision of his friend Mark who happens to go by Columbus. But there's the tiniest part of Eduardo who wants to be petty and use the opportunity to make Mark hurt.

"Kind of surprised you've survived really. Sacrifice a lot of your friends so you could get away?" Eduardo says, tension building in his shoulders and mouth. "What's the saying? You don't have to outrun the tiger, you just have to outrun your friends. Guess that could be pretty applicable to the zombie apocalypse too."

Whereas others accused Mark of only having two expressions, bored and in front of the computer, Eduardo's always been able to pick out the tiniest emotion on Mark's face. There's no need for that skill with Columbus though. His whole face crumbles, shoulders hunching in and body resembling a kicked puppy.

"I'll just-" Columbus starts and heads for the door like he'd rather be eaten by zombies than stay in Eduardo's presences.

Eduardo jumps off the bed, muttering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," on the way. He blocks the door, placing his hand over the lock and looking into the other boy's face. "Please don't go."

Columbus stops. His lips purse together as if looking for the right words. His body keeps moving towards the door and then stepping back. "You're kind of a dick," Columbus finally says.

Eduardo laughs, something releasing in the depths of his chest that has him sliding down the door and landing in a heap on the blood stained carpet. "Sorry?"

Columbus evaluates Eduardo from his standing position but with a shrug, he joins Eduardo on the floor.

"Listen man, I really am sorry. Must be the stress of zombies or something right?"

Columbus nods. "I get it. I once threw a rock through a store window. Well it wasn't really a rock it was more like a soda can and it didn't dent the window but I still felt bad about it."

Eduardo scoots over, resting his shoulder against Columbus like he used to do with Mark back at the dorm. "You are a rebel without a cause, my friend."

"I used to leave money on the counter when I took food from stores. I stopped though, when a hungry clerk almost took a bite out of my shoulder."

"Really?"

"Yup, all the time. Didn't feel right stealing. Of course, now there aren't any police officers or people to get you into trouble."

"Is it really that bad out there?"

Columbus turns his head. Their faces are close and Eduardo notices Columbus try to awkwardly lean away. His Mark never does that.

"You're the first person I've run into in weeks. I only guessed someone was in here because your room doesn't have a Z painted on it. I'm glad you opened the door."

Eduardo wonders what his dreams are made of but says, "I am too."

There's two beats of silence before the sound of rotting bodies slamming their weight against the door startles them both.

"What the fuck is that?" Eduardo asks.

Columbus turns to him and says, "Zombies."

"Oh, right. We should probably barricade the door."

Eduardo spends the rest of the dream moving furniture and looking sideways at Columbus.

***

Eduardo wakes up Saturday morning with a crick in his neck. He rolls off the hotel couch, slowly turning his neck from side to side. His fingers move to massage the tight tendons where his neck meets his shoulder. He'd kill for a massage and considers springing for one in the hotel spa. He decides against it though, hopping into a hot shower instead.

Clean and in a new suit, Eduardo contemplates what to do with his day. The only people he knows in California are his lawyers. He still has Chris and Dustin's numbers, hell, he still has Mark's, but he doesn't like making his friends choose. Maybe after the lawsuit, when things have settled down, he'll get in contact with Chris and Dustin again. For right now though Eduardo is on his own. This is California; there should be plenty of things to do. After five minutes of searching online though, Eduardo gives up, grabs his wallet and goes for a walk.

The sun feels good but discarded flyers keep getting caught under Eduardo's shoes. He kicks his way through them like they’re fallen leaves. He can smell the bit of salt water that rides in on the winds. It has a distinctive Pacific Ocean taste. Patches of grass and dandelions fight through the sidewalk and mass of pavement and infrastructure that make up the city. Along the street, cars are parked like sardines.

"How about this one?" Columbus asks. His finger points towards a champagne colored minivan. He looks ridiculous with his jacket tied around his waist and roller bag traveling behind him. The shotgun completes the look.

"I'm not driving through the zombie apocalypse in a Honda," Eduardo replies. "What about this one?"

"I don't think a convertible is very practical."

Eduardo looks at the candy vermillion red BMW convertible. "It is very pretty though."

"This one?" Columbus asks, pointing at the Mini Cooper next in line.

"We're driving cross country not playing soccer with it."

"Has anyone ever told you, you're very hard to please?"

Eduardo laughs, clamping a hand on Columbus's back. "What about that one?" The car is a Nissan Xterra painted silver. It looks whole and intact and like it could drive over a pile of bodies if need be.

"I think I like it," Columbus says. His face turns towards the sun and Eduardo. He smiles and awkwardly punches Eduardo on the shoulder. It kind of feels like a kitten pawing for his attention.

"Come on," Eduardo moves to the car, knowing Columbus is following by the roll of his baggage.

Eduardo checks the driver’s side and finds it unlocked.

"Wait," Columbus says. He jogs up to Eduardo, bringing around his shotgun. Columbus points the weapon at the back seat. "Rule #31, check the back seat."

Eduardo shrugs, throwing up the door and letting Columbus point the shotgun at the back of the car. Eventually Eduardo pops his head over Columbus's shoulder.

"Clean?"

"Looks good."

Columbus hoists his bag into the back while Eduardo drops off the backpack he's taken along. Eduardo had refused a gun but he did have the hotel's fire ax slipped through the straps of his bag. Eduardo hops into the drivers seat, flipping down the visor to have a set of keys fall into his lap.

"Look at that," Eduardo says as Columbus climbs into the passenger seat. "Must be our lucky day."

Columbus smiles across from him. Eduardo ignores the pleasant feeling in his chest, and drives.

***

He doesn't think about the dreams because there's nothing to think about. His subconscious is obviously trying to deal with the stress of suing Mark by imagining them as best friends again: best friends who fight zombies. His subconscious is a weird place.

***

"So where are we going?" Columbus asks as the city recedes behind them.

"You're heading towards Ohio right? Figure we'll head east then."

"Don't you want to go to Miami?"

"Miami is east," Eduardo says. "I'm not committed to the idea or anything though."

Columbus nods, a smile breaking across his lips that he tries to hide.

Eduardo can see the reflection perfectly in the mirror though.

"So you have family in Ohio then?"

"A mom and dad," Columbus says. "I figure I survived by being a shut-in, and they're even worse than me so odds should be good." He rubs his hand on his jeans, a nervous habit Eduardo's already picked up on. "What about you? Probably lots of girlfriends you're looking to get back to. Ones who walk around in swimsuits and designer sunglasses."

Eduardo laughs at the notion. "No, I've been" _busy suing you_ – "busy with school."

"I can respect that. Got to get an education."

They drive past abandoned cars, the fires long burned out. The roads become impassible at certain points and Eduardo's glad they went for something with 4-wheel drive. The carnage becomes almost unreal as they drive past. Of course it's all unreal since it's just Eduardo's dream but he finds himself being pulled into the architecture of the dream. It's like the road trip they always talked about but never did.

"I have a map in my bag," Columbus says. "We could pick a highway, possibly see the biggest ball of yarn."

Eduardo smiles, continuing to laugh as Columbus unbuckles, (Rule #4) and tries to navigate through his bag to find the Rand McNally map. It's one of those large format maps with each state on a page. Eduardo's family had one before GPS, Google maps, and in-car navigation made map reading an antiquated skill. Columbus flips to the section in front with the complete United States and major highways.

"We're somewhere here," Columbus says with a pointed finger, "and we want to go here."

"Anything interesting between here and there?" Eduardo keeps one eye on the road and one eye on Columbus and the map.

"Well there is one place we could go," Columbus says, "Las Vegas."

***

Eduardo wakes up in the passenger seat. Columbus is driving, hoodie string dangling from his lips. The sun's just starting to set, sky like cotton candy with blue, pink and orange weaving together.

"Hey," Eduardo says. His neck is stiff again, body cramped from folding itself in the car. He stretches his legs and raises his arms over his sleep-ruffled hair.

Columbus looks over from the driver's seat. He's not very subtle in his admiration.

"How much further?" Eduardo asks.

"About sixty miles," he responds as the string falls from his mouth. The map is spread out on Columbus's lap, highlighter taken from a convenience store marking their route.

"What do you think will be there?"

"I've never been. I have seen the entire run of _CSI_ though."

"Oh well then," Eduardo says, "you'll have to be my tour guide. We tried to go one spring break but when half of your group is under twenty-one there's really no point."

Columbus nods.

"Did you lose a lot of your friends?" Columbus asks.

It's a question that has Eduardo thinking of lawsuits instead of zombies.

"I mean," Columbus backtracks when he looks over at Eduardo's face, "you don't have to answer that of course. That was a stupid question – please don't answer that. Please? Okay, just say something because you kind of look like Bambi when his mom was shot and you're freaking me out."

Columbus's ramblings are enough to drive Eduardo out of his headspace. It's even enough to earn a small laugh.

"There was one," Eduardo says before he can think about it. "One really good friend I lost."

Columbus stays silent in the passenger seat. His fingers roll back and forth over the steering wheel, obviously anxious with some need.

"We weren't roommates but we were always in one another's space. He was always on the computer; always doing something that was just beyond my comprehension. I'd sit on his bed and let him ramble at me. Sometimes I'd bring food or beer and we'd stay up all night watching whatever was on Discovery channel. It was good."

"And then the zombies came?" Columbus whispers.

"Something like that. There was this guy, and he was infected I guess. And things were going good but I could not get my friend to see what a parasite, what a little jerk this guy was. And then, despite my efforts, everything went to hell."

The car lapses into silence. There’s just the sound of the tires on the road and Eduardo finds he doesn't mind it so much. Columbus speaks eventually, because that's the kind of person he is, but it's only a muted "I'm sorry," that passes between them. Eduardo doesn't know how to respond so he stays quiet and watches the desert turn dark.

***

"Huh," Columbus says. They're still in the car but the windows are down and they're leaning out like overexcited puppy dogs. The strip is lit up from end to end, everything normal except for the lack of people. "Why do you think all of the lights are still on?"

"I don't know," Eduardo says. "Think we should take a look?"

Columbus looks like he wants to say something, probably note one of the rules he lives by, but Eduardo opens his door and jumps onto the pavement before there's any chance. Axe in hand, Eduardo starts walking down the deserted strip. It takes a second, but then Columbus is right with him, shotgun in hand.

"Do you actually know how to shoot that thing?" Eduardo questions.

Columbus looks at him. "Why would I carry it if I didn't know how to shoot it?"

"Point," Eduardo says. "I guess we should check out the inside?"

Columbus looks apprehensive again but Eduardo barrels in. The New York, New York casino is like New York City on steroids, which is saying a lot considering the source material. There's a mashup of the skyline, complete with the Statue of Liberty and a roller coaster for some reason in front. The doors they enter through lead to an abandoned pretzel hut and souvenir shop. Just beyond them is the floor of the casino. The lights are still working and the slot machines still sing their siren song. There are a couple of overturned tables and dropped cocktails, some blood that points to the previous chaos.

Eduardo starts rifling through the gift shop, looking at cheesy shirts and hoodies with _I Love NY NY Las Vegas_. There's a whole collection of shot glasses and magnets that won't be going on anyone's fridge. He doesn't take anything, just lets his fingers ghost over the souvenirs before heading back to Columbus.

"See anything good?" Columbus asks.

Eduardo's lips curl into a smile when he sees the figures approaching. They're coming from outside, rambles of zombies with blood on their clothes and empty stares.

"Can they get inside?" Eduardo questions.

"Probably not," Columbus says. "They're usually not smart enough to open a door."

Eduardo and Columbus move closer together, shoulder to shoulder, ax to shotgun. The first batch of zombies hits the doors but seems to be stopped by the heavy weight and necessity to pull instead of push.

"I think we're okay," Eduardo says, right about the point when one of the zombies discovers the automatic door opener. Blue button pressed, the doors glide open.

"Run!" Columbus grabs Eduardo's arm, turning and heading deeper into the casino. Their feet pound against the ugly carpet as they run past row and row of slot machines. "Here," Columbus pulls them behind a roulette table. They fall on the ground, legs and limbs tangled together. Eduardo clutches the axe with one hand and Columbus with the other.

"Does this happen often?" Eduardo questions.

"You're really weird sometimes," Columbus says. "I'm going to see how close they are." He scrambles to his knees, peeking his head over the top of the table.

"How close are they?" Eduardo asks.

"Close enough to run!"

They take off. Eduardo goes right before realizing Columbus goes left.

"Shit." He keeps running, ducking below the tops of slot machines with his axe ready. Eduardo doesn't know what he'll actually do with the weapon but it feels safe in his hand. He stops for a second with his back against a slot machine. He tries to quiet his breathing and listen for any movement. There are footsteps approaching, slow but strong. "Columbus?" Eduardo whispers.

No response.

He moves slowly, inching his way around the slot machine. "Columbus?"

It's not Columbus.

The ax slices through the air, missing the hot dog vendor zombie by a mile. Eduardo turns and takes off running. The zombie keeps up with him, there every time Eduardo risks a glance backward.

"Shit, shit, shit." He can't breathe and can't stop.

"Duck!"

Eduardo goes down, just as the bulky blond appears from behind the slot machine. A roaring oar sales over Eduardo's head but connects with the zombie's head. The zombie body smacks to the ground like a lump of flesh. The blond is tall, dressed in a New England Patriots sweatshirt and torn jeans.

"Winklevi?"

Tyler, or Cameron, (Eduardo was never able to tell them apart) swings the oar down on the zombie's neck, slicing the head from the body.

The Winklevoss settles the bloodied oar against his shoulder. Smiling, he looks down at Eduardo and offers a hand. "You okay?"

"Kind of," Eduardo responds. He takes the offered hand, getting to his feet.

"Miami?"

Eduardo still has the Winklevoss's hand when he sees Columbus walking up with the other twin. He lets go of the hand, flinging himself on Columbus.

"How many did you get?" the one without a Patriot's sweatshirt one asks.

"Six on the way in, this one makes seven. You?"

"Nine, although the last two this one helped me finish off." He points towards Columbus who Eduardo is still clinging to.

"Nice."

"That was crazy," Eduardo says into Columbus's ear.

"Yeah," Columbus agrees, voice tight.

"If we're not interrupting," the Patriot brother says, "we should probably get going. We have somewhere close that's safe."

Eduardo disengages himself from Columbus.

"We should go, we should totally go," Eduardo says, a little delirious now that the adrenaline is wearing off.

"Good," Patriot brother says with a Disney Prince grin. "My name’s Harvard by the way, this is my brother Oxford."

***

The “some place close” is the Bellagio hotel. The famous fountains aren't flowing but everything else in the casino is still pristine. There's no blood or knocked over machines, no destruction past the barriers they climb over to get in. Inside there's people milling about. They place bets on roulette tables, play poker and pull the lever on slot machines, all while dressed as if outfitted by Ralph Lauren and Tommy Hilfiger.

"What is this place?" Columbus asks.

"Welcome to the Bellagio," Harvard says. "It's taken awhile but we think it cleaned up rather well. We still have to work to on the buffet though, the chicken isn't quite right."

"A little stringy," Oxford says with a smile, laying the oar across his shoulders.

"Those are roaring oars right?" Eduardo asks.

"With a couple of modifications," Harvard says. "It's important to be prepared."

A group of women approach. They're all dressed in the latest J. Crew fashions, their tennis skirts swirling above tanned legs. Each carries a rifle on her back.

"Hello ladies," Harvard says, managing to sound charming instead of sleazy. "Cocktails are at seven tonight. Jean-Philippe will be debuting his latest dessert."

"Look forward to seeing you there," one of the women states and walks past.

Harvard smiles after her, waiting until the group has passed before saying, "You guys should come tonight. The event is black tie though."

"Don't worry, we have a tailor if you need it." Oxford says.

"You're welcomed to stay here. There's more than enough room and Jean-Phillippe's works are really not to be missed."

"Sure," Eduardo says before turning to Columbus. "You want to stay here tonight right?"

Although Eduardo is usually the one who gets the deer impressions, Columbus does a fairly good one of a deer stuck in headlights. He shakes his head quickly, getting out, "Yes, sure, please," in a jumble of words.

The twins share a look before Oxford says, "Good. We should show you around then, introduce you to Bronx."

Bronx turns out to be Divya. He shakes Eduardo and Columbus's hands before going back to the giant map tapped on the TV screens that used to show sporting events.

"What's this?" Eduardo asks.

"Bronx's pet project," Harvard says. "He's keeping track of all of the information we hear about the rest of the world."

"Ohio?" Columbus asks. He's been quiet since meeting the twins, hanging towards the back of the group while still staying close to Eduardo.

Bronx doesn't bother looking at them before saying, "Completely gone. Nothing left but rubble."

Eduardo turns to Columbus, not knowing what to say or how to take his friend's crushed face.

"Oh," Columbus breathes out. "I think – I'm just going to go – somewhere over there." He turns, disappearing onto the gaming floor.

"Something wrong?" Harvard asks.

"Columbus, he's from-" but Eduardo doesn't need to complete the sentence. They all got into Harvard; they can make the connection themselves.

"Sorry," Bronx says after a second of silence.

"It's-" Eduardo says, "- I should make sure he's okay."

"Of course," one of the twins says before Eduardo runs after his friend.

He finds Columbus in an abandoned bar. He sits on one of the bar stools, looking into an empty glass. Eduardo flips back his suit jacket, sitting on the bar stool next to Columbus.

Eduardo's about to speak when the phone rings. There's a few seconds of disorientation before Eduardo wakes up in his hotel bed. His left hand fumbles for the ringing hotel phone.

"Hello?"

"Good morning sir, this is your 7 a.m. wake up call."

"Thank you," Eduardo says before slamming the phone back into the cradle. "Fuck."

***

The day is brutal. The lawyers argue over the semantics of one email, going over and over it until the words lose all meaning. Eduardo thinks about Introduction to Philosophy with Professor Adrian: the constant lectures on Marx and Spender and if names mean anything. Why does d-o-g mean a furry four-legged canine? Eduardo had helped Mark the semester he had to take the class. Eduardo still had his notes and had helped Mark deconstruct a four-line paragraph to get the required eight pages.

Eduardo sits in his chair and wonders if Mark is thinking the same thing.

Why does M-a-r-k mean Mark?

***'

They still sit shoulder to shoulder, knees knocking into the bar in front of them.

"I'm sorry," Eduardo whispers. He thinks about reciting the ancient Hebrew but he chooses instead to wrap his arm around the boy. "I'm here for you."

'"They were nice people," Columbus says.

Columbus doesn't add anything, so they sit with the background noise of the casino to keep them company.

***

Cocktail hour reminds Eduardo of a Finals Club affair. With Cameron, Tyler and Divya (or their equivalents) running the place it makes sense. Everyone is beautiful and dressed from the hotel's boutique. They sip on drinks and top shelf liquor while talking about the best way to behead the undead.

The party is too much for Columbus and they both bow out while the affair is in full swing. Harvard hands them an electric key to a room on the fifth floor. The room has one king sized bed. Eduardo wonders what they think about Columbus and him. He wonders what the twins think about Mark and him.

"I can take the couch," Columbus says.

"It's big enough to share. I'm just going to take a shower." Eduardo stands under the spray for a long time. When he gets out, Columbus is already asleep under the covers. He looks at Columbus for a couple of seconds, lines on his face smoothed out by sleep but body still defensive. Eduardo decides to get dressed instead of standing at the foot of the bed and watching Columbus sleep all night. He slips the keycard into his slacks and steps out the door.

He explores, keeping within the confines of the hotel.

"It's still a dangerous world out there," Bronx had said earlier that night. "It's why we try to keep track of things."

Eduardo explores the back areas, taking twists and turns that he hopes he can reserve and repeat later. It's nearly sunrise when Eduardo stumbles onto the roof. The view is clear and bright. Some of the hotels look like new. Some are charred and blackened with debris gathering in front of the door. Beyond the strip, into the deserts of Nevada, Eduardo can only see sand and the swell of smokestacks. The sun rises and touches everything gold.

"Nice view right?" It's Harvard, or Oxford, although Eduardo thinks it was Harvard who wore the red and gold tie that's now loosened around his neck. He has a golf club in hand and doesn't wait for Eduardo to respond before slicing the air and smashing the golf ball onto the strip below.

"Party still going on?" Eduardo asks. He shivers in the pre-morning chill.

"Just winding down," Harvard says. "It's really more Oxford and Bronx's thing. They say it's good for morale."

Eduardo settles against one of the massive but now silent air conditioners. Harvard goes back to hitting golf balls while Eduardo watches the sun rise behind him.

"Can I ask you something?" The question makes Eduardo think the twin is Cameron.

"Sure," Eduardo replies, bringing up his knees and wrapping his arms around them. The wind is nice if a little chilly.

"What's the deal with you and Columbus?"

Eduardo takes a moment before responding, "It's complicated."

Harvard spares him a glance. It's a glance that says you want to talk about complicated, I got complicated, before hitting the next ball in line.

It works enough for Eduardo to try and explain. "We've been traveling together since California. I wasn't - I didn't know a lot about zombies or how to survive. Columbus helped with that."

"Really?" Harvard asks.

"I know he doesn't look it but he's scrappy. And fast." Eduardo doesn't mention Columbus's rule of cardio and double taps. But the list has kept them safe so far.

"So why does he look like a kicked puppy every time you look away from him?"

The lump in Eduardo's throat is heavy as he speaks, "I like him. A lot. But he reminds me of someone – this guy from before. Things didn't turn out too well."

"How similar could they look?"

"They could be twins."

Harvard raises an eyebrow while setting up more golf balls. "Well if they could be twins."

Eduardo rolls his eyes but his lips smile. "It's more than the physical. There's little movements, little things he does with his hands or the way that he bites his lips, that reminds me of Mark."

Harvard makes no sign of recognition at the name. "So you have a type."

"But they're really, really similar." Eduardo feels he can't stress enough how similar they are.

Harvard lets his golf club rest again the roof, crossing his leg and leaning his weight on the club. The sun has almost completely risen and if the Winkelvoss twin didn't look like an ancient deity before, he does now. "My brother and I, we're genetically the same but we're entirely different people. Ask Divya. He gets more upset when people mix us up then we do. We have the same nature and the same nurture and yet no one blames Oxford for what I do or he for my actions. We're connected of course, but we're our own people. So whoever this Mark guy is, Columbus isn't him. Whatever wrong this guy performed, Columbus never did."

***

Eduardo thinks about Harvard's words as he recounts his trip to Palo Alto.

***

They left Las Vegas two days ago. Harvard stocked them up with food and ammunition despite Oxford's raised eyebrow. They found the car, checked the back seat and headed out. Eduardo feels like he knows their destination but he doesn't say anything out loud.

They stay on the back roads. Most of the major highways are lined with abandoned cars and hungry corpses. They play I-Spy and ask each other questions like, "If you could choose two historical figures to be your parents, who would they be?" Columbus changes his mind every half-mile.

They drive east and Columbus is asleep when they pass the sign saying “Welcome to Texas”.

***

They almost run over a chicken in Amarillo. Eduardo hits the brakes, slamming the car forwards then backwards. They're fine thanks to Columbus's rule of seatbelts, but he does look over to Eduardo and ask, "Did you just stop for a chicken?"

Eduardo licks his lips, gathering his breath before saying, "Yes?"

"Oh." Columbus accepts this with a good-natured nod of his head. After a couple of seconds though he asks, "Are we going to drive around the chicken now?"

Eduardo would but he has a bad feeling that only gets confirmed when he sees the plaid wearing zombie slink out of a nearby farmhouse. It moves with purpose and speed that has Eduardo blurting out, "Can animals get the virus?"

Columbus looks at him. Then he looks at the chicken in the middle of the road. "No," he almost whispers but it's enough for Eduardo to unbuckle his seatbelt.

"Keep it running!" Eduardo yells behind him. He lands awkwardly on the pavement: the shoes aren't made for speed but he should have plenty of time to grab the chicken and get back to the car. Of course, that's if the chicken doesn't start running away from Eduardo and straight towards the zombie.

"No you stupid chicken." He has to run bent over, arms stretched out in an attempt to grab the fowl. The chicken has apparently taken courses in evasive maneuvers because it zig zags all over the road, further and further away from the safety of the car. "Promise I won't feed you anymore chickens," Eduardo says, still trying to keep pace. It's not his most dignified moment. The chicken zigs to the right but Eduardo's one step ahead and wraps his arms around the squawking animal. "Got you."

It's also the moment Eduardo realizes he's two feet away from a still hungry zombie.

Running for your life is hard. Running for your life with a chicken in your arms is harder.

Eduardo makes a beeline for the passenger side door. Columbus has already scooted over to the driver's seat, a bewildered expression on his face but his hands on the steering wheel.

Eduardo's fingers go for the door. He yanks the handle open but the door doesn't open. In panic, he pulls a couple more times before realizing that the door is in fact, locked. He locks eyes with Columbus. Time drags as Columbus practically throws himself across the seat to unlock the door. But rule #4 has Columbus buckled in and the sudden movement yanks him back and away from the door lock. Eduardo can feel the zombie breathing its foul stench so Eduardo does the only thing he can, he runs. He makes a wide arc around the car, watching through the windows as Columbus unbuckles himself and scrambles to unlock the door.

Eduardo's breathing heavily by the time he completes the circuit. He opens the door and jumps in as quickly as he can. Columbus guns the engine and they take off, sideswiping the zombie.

"Did you just risk your life to rescue a chicken?" Columbus blurts out as they speed down the country highway.

The chicken squawks, probably a little disoriented after the chase and now being in a car. Eduardo dumps it into the back seat where the animal explores for a second before settling down amongst their luggage.

"Seriously, did you just risk your life for a farm animal?"

"It's," Eduardo searches for the word, "complicated?"

There's a nervous laugh that Mark always made when they got drunk or high together. But Columbus is giving it freely. His face is open and smiling, laughing and staring at Eduardo like he doesn't understand him at all but loves what he sees.

"You are crazy," Columbus says.

"Yeah well," Edaurdo laughs. "Just make sure to buckle up again."

***

Eduardo hardly dreams of being tired. It seems weird to be asleep and yet still feel the pull of his eyelids and ache in his bones.

"We should pull over," Columbus says through his yawn. They've been driving for what Eduardo estimates has been four days in deposition time.

"I can keep going," Eduardo says but the lines on the road start blurring together and Eduardo figures he doesn't want to know what a car crash dream feels like.

They find a Motel 6 right off the highway. There aren’t any cars in the parking lot but they do a sweep of the place. It comes up empty but they still take a room on the second floor, parking the car directly underneath the window. They debate about what to do with the chicken, still nameless, before deciding to bring it inside and keeping it locked in the bathroom. They lay out some towels and give the animal some canned tuna and it seems content with life. The room is pretty standard for hotels just off the highway. There are two beds, floral bedsheets and a TV that remains off. They take a couple of seconds to barricade the door but Eduardo is exhausted and falls into the closest bed. It takes him a few seconds to realize Columbus is already occupying the bed.

"Sorry, I'll move-"

"You don't have to," Columbus says, grabbing his arm.

If Columbus were more awake, if his eyes were bright and desperate, if his touch lingered and pressed with intent, Eduardo would have said no. He knows how bad of an idea it is to dream about fucking the friend he's currently suing. But Columbus's words have no innuendo under them. He's eyes are already closed and his grip is loose and relaxed.

"We should get under the covers at least," Eduardo finally says.

Columbus sleepily agrees and they manage to shed the most uncomfortable pieces of clothing before settling under the sheets. Columbus's fingers find Eduardo's arm again. His thump makes lazy circular movements that send shivers down Eduardo's spine. He closes his eyes and thinks about sleep.

"Miami," Columbus whispers.

It's becoming too easy to respond to the name. "Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something? It's important that you don't laugh though."

"I promise."

"Sometimes," Columbus starts, "I get really nervous about you."

"Why?" Eduardo asks. "Because I've shown little regard for personal safety when it comes to farm animals?"

"No, although that is something I'm going to keep an eye on. It's just sometimes I get really worried that I made you up," Columbus says. "I don't understand how you can be real."

Eduardo opens his eyes to see Columbus staring back at him.

"Why?" The words float across the space between them.

"Because you rescue chickens. And laugh at my jokes. And didn't want to leave me and stay with the beautiful people in Las Vegas." His fingers move from Eduardo's arm to his jaw. The touch is light and slow, the lightest brush across Eduardo's skin. "You're too perfect to exist anywhere but in my head."

***

Eduardo has to spend the next day looking out the window. He can't look at Mark or Columbus (or whoever it is sitting across from him) and say the things that need to be said. He can't recount the worst moment of his life while looking at the man who told him he's too good to be real.

He spends the lunch hour hiding in the bathroom. He pulls his knees up to his chest and resolves not to breakdown. Not here and not in front of Mark.

He bumps into Mark's lawyer - the young female professional who gives him worrying glances across the table - on the way back.

"Excuse me," Eduardo says.

She looks into his wet and red eyes.

Eduardo is immensely grateful when she doesn't say anything and just lets him pass.

***

"So, there's something we haven't discussed," Columbus says.

Eduardo has a list of things they haven't discussed. At the top is the fact that Columbus's fingers keep inching closer and closer to Eduardo's thighs. At the bottom is the fact that everything between them is a dream. Hopefully the topic is somewhere in between.

"Where exactly are we going?"

"I don't know," Eduardo says. "You're the one driving." They've only switched a couple of hours ago; Columbus continuing on the route Eduardo had started on.

"Well right now, but it seems like you have a destination in mind."

"I was thinking we could go to Harvard."

"Harvard? As in the school?"

"Yeah, I was talking to, well Harvard, back in Las Vegas. He said the campus was all old brick: heavily fortified and probably full of snack food and Mountain Dew. Might make a good place to ride out winter."

"Doesn't that area of the country get cold?"

"Not that cold," Eduardo says although he was always wearing the biggest coat and complaining about the heat in the dorms. "Maybe the cold will kill the zombies."

Columbus nods as if the point makes sense. "Okay, so Harvard. Now that I know the destination I can plan out our route." He seems happy at the thought and goes back to driving.

***

The first time Eduardo shoots a zombie, is the same day he tells Mark he had one friend.

***

They've been driving for hours, silence or “I never” or snippets of songs they both remember filling the time. A hospitable looking gas station is just to their right and has Eduardo pulling the car over. There's one zombie roadside attendant that Eduardo takes care of; double tap because Columbus taught him. Eduardo knows that being paranoid and being prepared are one in the same in zombieland. They fill up the tank before parking the car behind the station. The chicken gets some room to run while Columbus and Eduardo pick through the food offerings.

Columbus has a thing for red vines that Eduardo tries not to find charming or eerily similar to Mark. Nevertheless, when there's a packet amongst the discarded chips and candy, Eduardo grabs them and tosses them to Columbus. Columbus doesn't catch them so much as have them land in his hand but he smiles wide and says thanks.

It's definitely charming.

Eduardo's searching for more cans of tuna when they hear the car. He looks up, seeing the flashy red sportster roll into the gas station. Eduardo crouches and runs towards Columbus. Together, they hide behind the register, guns and eyes peeking over the top.

Two people get out of the car. They're unarmed, young and immediately recognizable. Eduardo feels his lips curl into a smile as he watches Chris and Dustin check out the car's flat tire.

"Do you trust me?" Eduardo questions.

"Yes," Columbus replies before following it up with, "what do you mean?"

"Just don't shoot them and follow my lead."

Columbus nods as Eduardo stands and heads towards the front door. They're not trying to be sneaky but it's not until Columbus and Eduardo are feet away from Chris and Dustin that they notice.

"I told you we should have gone with something more reliable," Chris says.

"It was a once in a lifetime opportunity," Dustin states. "The color was just so pretty. I didn't know it would be such a hassle to keep up."

"You guys need some help?" Eduardo finally asks when it's clear they'd rather keep bickering than notice their surroundings. Usually it was Mark and Eduardo who did that.

They whip around to face Eduardo and Columbus. There's no spark of recognition but Eduardo's learned not to expect it.

"So hey," Dustin says. "Hope we're not intruding or anything. Just stopped to fix the tire." He goes to put his hands up in a surrender motion that has Eduardo wondering who they've encountered before.

"No worries," Eduardo says. "This isn't our place or anything. We stopped for gas and food. Just sounded like you guys could use some help."

"Yeah, we have a flat tire because someone didn't think about durability." Chris notes.

Dustin rolls his eyes but laughs. "Either of you know how to change a tire?"

Eduardo looks to Columbus who quickly shakes his head. Eduardo offers them a shrug.

Dustin sighs and hangs his head. "It's times like these I really miss the internet."

"You guys should come with us," Eduardo breaks in.

Dustin and Chris stop talking and turn to Eduardo. They have a silent communication, something that looks like if they're trying to figure out if Eduardo and Columbus are going to kill them and dump their bodies on the side of the road. But their other options of learning how to fix a tire or walking aren't looking so good and Eduardo tries to appear as non-threatening as he can. Columbus's flannel shirt is tied around his waist so they're covered there.

"Sure, thanks for the invite," Dustin finally says. "What are you guys’ names again?"

"Oh, sorry, I'm Miami," Eduardo remembers just in time.

"Hi, I'm Columbus."

"I'm Chris."

"Dustin."

Columbus and Eduardo look confused before Chris asks, "Everyone's doing the whole location as your name thing right?"

Columbus shrugs, "Pretty much."

"I told you his name wasn't Santa Fe," Chris says to Dustin.

Dustin rolls his eyes but Eduardo butts in before they can start up again. "We just need to grab our chicken and then we can go."

Dustin smiles wide. "You guys have a chicken?"

***

"Are you okay with this?" Eduardo asks, speaking low and pointing towards Dustin and Chris as they wrestle their bags from their sport car's non-existent trunk.

Columbus nods, a little too fast for Eduardo to completely believe him. "Sure, I mean, it's good to travel in numbers. In case one of us needs to leave or something,"

Eduardo has spent years with Mark, has learned how every quirk of the lip or backhand remark reveals Mark's feelings. With Columbus, every emotion seems to be magnified by ten. The expressions are still cryptic but the feelings are loud and clear to a guy who's used to a purse of lips or raised eyebrow to get at complex emotions like happiness or jealousy.

"This isn't," Eduardo gets out, "it's not about me wanting to leave or anything. I just-" I know these guys, he wants to say. You will like these guys. They will put up with your neuroses and incessant typing and schemes to change the world. They'll stick with you through thick and thin.

He doesn't though. The words get stuck in his mouth. Eduardo loves Dustin and Eduardo loves Chris. He knows they're the kids stuck in the middle of the divorce, complete with nasty custody battles, talk of alimony, and incidents from the past. But Eduardo can't help feeling like, in the end, no one choose him.

"Do you ever just know something?" Eduardo ends up saying.

Columbus looks at him for a long second. His fingers rest on Eduardo's sleeve. The grip isn't tight but Eduardo can feel the weight of it all the same. "I know that I can trust you. That works for me."

***

The Pennsylvania countryside belongs on a postcard. The miles roll past as they switch seats and stories. It's a little like those first weeks of school, when Eduardo would bring over beer and they'd watch Discovery Channel or the latest video going around. He introduced them to “The Boondock Saints” and wasn't even annoyed when Dustin spent the next week talking exclusively in movie quotes.

In Harrisburg they find a Bass Pro Shop and decide to camp out for the night. The rock wall and aquarium are their backdrop as they set up a fire and sleeping bags in the center. It's almost like camping except for the stuffed bear and moose in mid-pose across from them.

"You guys have the best chicken," Dustin says.

"Have you spent a lot of time with chickens?" Columbus questions and sends the group into a fit of laughter.

They drink from cold beer bottles scavenged from their last rest stop.

"I am an expert in chickens, I will have you know. I am also an expert in camp outs and for that reason I think we should play never have I ever!" There's a chorus of groans but Dustin continues. "No, come on guys. We have to find some form of entertainment. If this was pre-zombie America, we would be sitting around a computer looking at cat macros."

The description hits Eduardo in his chest. He takes another sip of beer before saying, "Sounds like fun."

Columbus looks terrified but nods his head and joins the rest of them. The chicken pecks around its hastily built cage behind them. They learned after a three-hour trek in the woods that it was best to keep the animal caged.

"Dustin goes first since it's his idea," Chris says.

"Fair, fair," Dustin says. "Never have I ever got it on with a chicken."

Eduardo shakes his head but remembers one wild night where Dustin had come back with feathers in his hair. Eduardo doesn't stop laughing until he sees Columbus take a drink from his bottle. In silence, the group stares.

"What?" Columbus asks.

Eduardo says, "You only take a drink, when you _have_ done the never have I ever."

"Oh, oh, oh no, I've never, with a chicken. I mean, that's, no that's not what I meant."

"It's all right," Eduardo says, clapping Columbus's back. Columbus is still red though and Eduardo figures he should redirect everyone's attention. "Never have I ever, made out with someone in a library."

He expects to see Chris drink before he remembers it's a different world. Instead, Chris and Dustin drink and Eduardo thinks oh.

"Never have I ever," Chris says, "received a blowjob in a bathroom."

Eduardo groans and is the only one to take a drink.

Columbus is still frazzled and red from the earlier chicken comment and struggles to think of something when it's his turn. "Never have I ever - slept with a woman - in a car?"

Dustin's bottle makes a move towards his mouth. "How are we defining car? Because I had a pretty wild time in a wagon once?"

Eduardo laughs at the exact same time he realizes that he knows this story. He heard it sitting on Mark's bed as Dustin retold it from the corner of Mark's desk. That's when Eduardo realizes something: this Chris and Dustin, they're his Chris and Dustin. There's differences, slight distortions that mostly come out when Eduardo is looking. He spent time with the Winklevi and Divya but he hadn't known them in the real world enough to tell if there was any difference. But he knows his friends. If Chris and Dustin are still Chris and Dustin then Columbus-

"Zombies!"

Columbus drops his beer and grabs his rifle. He yanks Eduardo's arm, dragging them from the sleeping bags towards the escalator. Chris and Dustin follow with shotguns in their hands.

"Go, go, go," they trample over the stopped escalator, skirting behind the glass railing that looks over the first floor. Chris, Dustin and Columbus all raise their weapons as Eduardo realizes he's forgotten his.

There's a pack of zombies beneath them, dressed in black with a large amount of sparkles on their shirts. There's one with a Team Jacob shirt and another two with Team Edward.

"Why are they so sparkly?" Columbus asks.

"Huh, they're werewolf and vampire fans turned into zombies," Dustin says. "Anybody else find that ironic?"

"You find everything ironic," Chris says.

"We should just wait them out," Eduardo says before realizing that he's forgotten more than his gun. "Oh fuck."

"What?"

"The chicken!" Eduardo balls his fists and shakes his hands. "The chicken, the chicken, the chicken."

"You're not serious," Chris says.

"It's complicated." Eduardo's adrenaline starts pumping and he bounces on his feet. "Just cover me. I don't want my headstone to include the words Twilight or chicken in them."

"You have to be careful," Columbus says, one hand resting on Eduardo's arm.

"Don't worry," Eduardo states. "Just shoot them before they eat me."

"Sounds simple enough."

Eduardo smiles and makes a run for the escalator. The quickest route will be past the stuffed moose, skirting to the edge of fish aquarium and scooping up the chicken. Eduardo's vaults over fake shrubbery and rocks to conceal himself behind the stuffed mountain bear. Dustin stands at the top of the escalator, taking down any of the more adventurous ones. Chris is shooting the zombies who get too close to the chicken's cage. Columbus is aiming at Eduardo, rifle against his shoulder and stance ready. Eduardo's confused until he hears the gunfire and the sound of a body crumpling to the floor. The bare chested, long-haired teenage zombie was entirely too close for comfort. Eduardo smiles and makes a thumbs up at Columbus.

"Hurry up!" Columbus responds and spurs Eduardo from his hiding place. He crouches and makes a beeline for chicken, using racks of hunting gear and in store displays of fishing line for cover.

Reaching the animal, Eduardo takes off his jacket and wraps it around the bird. He's learned from many pecks and scratches that it's the best way of transporting the animal. Eduardo stands and is ready to run back the way he came: it's problematic since there's a horde of zombies between him and the escalator.

"New plan," Eduardo says to himself and the chicken. He tries thinking up escape plans. Things that are very James Bond and Jason Bourne and some that might require helicopters and rope. What does happen is entirely unexpected.

"Hey! Over here! Wahoo!" Columbus jumps in place, waving his arms like he's attempting a jumping jack. Eduardo turns towards the distraction. So do the zombies.

"Columbus!"

"Just run," he yells, locking eyes with Eduardo before firing a flare gun and demanding everyone's attention. The zombies break out in a run, away from Eduardo and towards Columbus.

Eduardo's torn. For a split second he's immobile. But then Eduardo realizes he's not helping anyone by just standing there.

There's a water feature to his left, something that trout might have swam in. Eduardo hopes they're no longer swimming as he vaults himself and the chicken into the staid water. The chicken flaps its displeasure but Eduardo keeps the animal above his head and wrapped in the coat.

"Miami, up here," Chris yells. Eduardo starts towards the rock installation where Chris and Dustin hang over the edge with their arms stretched out.

"Are we sure animals can't get the virus because I think I feel something biting me," Eduardo questions.

"Maybe they're piranhas," Dustin offers.

"Always helpful," Eduardo says. He trudges through until he can just reach Chris's fingers.

"Grab hold, we'll pull you up," Chris says.

Eduardo raises the chicken, letting Chris and Dustin manhandle the animal up to them.

"Now you," Chris says and holds out his hand.

But Eduardo's already turning around and heading toward Columbus. He's waterlogged and smells like fish when he finally pulls himself out of the tank and onto the sale's floor. He can see the zombies running in a zig-zag motion, as if their prey is running in a serpentine fashion. Eduardo runs through their campsite, grabbing his gun on the way. It's incredibly stupid and not well thought out but Eduardo's had worse ideas.

"Hey! Vampire!"

The closest turns and Eduardo shoots. He doesn't have time for a double shot but they're breaking all sorts of rules today. He rolls a winter coat display at two of them, jumping past to try and find Columbus. When Eduardo finds him, Columbus is standing on a table display, shooting any zombie that comes within range.

It's stupidly hot.

"Columbus!"

The boy turns and gives Eduardo the largest smile. Eduardo's heart stops and he realizes how incredibly screwed he is. Even if the zombies don't get him.

He shoots and fights his way towards Columbus. From out of nowhere an angry thirteen-year-old attempts to tear off Eduardo's neck but a shot from Dustin's rifle saves him.

"What are you doing?" Columbus asks.

Eduardo finally reaches the table, popping himself next to Columbus so that they can shoot back to back.

"What am I doing? What are you doing? Rule number 10, don't be a hero."

Columbus shrugs, the movement jerky since he shoots his shotgun at the same time.

"You're crazy," Eduardo says but he keeps shooting.

Back to back, Columbus and Eduardo can work on shooting any zombies that get too close and are stopped from being overwhelmed with Chris and Dustin's help from the second floor. Through luck and a lot of time with first person shooters, the four of them are able to kill, or re-kill, the horde of mall zombies.

***

They pile their stuff into the car and find a hotel. Together they all hike to the top floor, doing a sweep of all of the rooms before throwing their belongings down. There's more than enough space for everyone to have their own room but they automatically pair up and say it's for safety. The adrenaline of fighting, of surviving and coming out the other end with everyone in tact, is starting to fade and making the world a very exhausting place.

Eduardo steps over to Dustin and Chris. "Can you guys look after the chicken tonight? I have to talk to Columbus about something."

"Talk," Dustin says with finger quotes and an exaggerated wink. "We can totally watch your kid for the night so that you two can talk."

Eduardo knows what it looks like. But he doesn't bother correcting either of them and simply hands over the cage and chicken feed.

"See you guys in the morning," Chris says. "If there's anything you need to talk about-"

"We're fine," Eduardo says without realizing. "Thanks for the help."

Chris doesn't look satisfied, he was always the one who knew when Eduardo and Mark were bantering and when they were fighting for real, but Chris closes the door and says, "See you in the morning."

Eduardo's left in the hallway in another motel, key card in his hand, blank door in front of him. He takes a second to just lean against the door, forehead to wood and arms braced. He thinks about the summer in California. The days at Harvard, when all he needed was a six-pack and an Indiana Jones marathon on TV. He thinks about walking through the quad at 2 am, going to Kirkland when he should be asleep or studying or in class. He thinks about stupid ideas and the stories that came out of them. He stays there for a while. Long enough for the geometric pattern below his feet to swirl and appear to change in shape and color.

What the hell is he supposed to be doing?

"Excuse me, sir?"

Eduardo turns towards the voice. She's blonde with her hair tied in a low ponytail and dressed in the hotel's uniform of shirt, vest and trousers.

"Are you having some trouble with your key sir?"

Eduardo looks at the key in his hand. He flips it over, again and again, as if there'll be something different if he just does it one more time.

"Are you drunk, sir?"

She keeps the room service cart between her and Eduardo, and Eduardo wonders if she's already called security.

"I'm good," Eduardo says. "Just getting some fresh air."

She remains skeptical but Eduardo inserts his key and watches as the green light blinks its acceptance.

"Totally fine," he says and quickly slips inside the open door. Once inside, he lets himself rest against the door and repeats, "Totally fine."

***

"I was your only friend," Eduardo says and knows it's a twist of the truth.

Chris and Dustin are Mark's friends. The duo sat on opposite ends of the couch and pitched in for beer. They shared food and power cords and inside jokes.

But Mark listened to Eduardo. Eduardo was the one who made sure Mark ate, that he actually went outside or attended class. He took the professors Eduardo suggested and would drink the glass of orange juice when Eduardo waved it in his face. They were friends, in a way that people who deferred to Mark because of his intellect or sarcasm could never be.

Friends and equals. Eduardo can't tell which lie creates the largest hole in his chest.

***

The taxi back to the hotel helps calm Eduardo down. Miles after miles of just the traffic and streetlights for Eduardo to look at: bright distractions for his mind.

"They're close to settling," his lawyers assure him. "Even if Mr. Zuckerberg doesn't want to, his lawyers will make him."

You can't make Mark do anything.

Eduardo slips past the hotel lobby, eyes on the elevator and the button for his floor pressed as soon as the doors open. The inside panels are reflective, allowing one last swipe of lip gloss or knotting of a tie. The mirrors show a man in control: hair gelled back, tie in a half Windsor, cufflinks as always, shoes shined and designer labels stitched on the inside of his suits. As everything else goes to hell, appearance is one thing that must never be neglected.

Eduardo laughs without humor. His father's and lawyer's advice is starting to become jumbled in his head.

It's four doors to the left for Eduardo's room. The key slips in and beeps its green acceptance.

"Do you want first shower?" Columbus asks. His back is to Eduardo. He's rummaging through his suitcase in search of something clean.

"It doesn't matter," Eduardo responds. He reaches for the remote before remembering there'll just be static. His hands rub at his eyes, exhausted and sore; maybe a shower would do him good.

Columbus turns, finding Eduardo and looking at him with worried eyes. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? I think the bathroom has a first aid kit."

"I'm fine, just tired from" you "fighting zombies."

"That's why we need to increase your cardio training."

Eduardo feels his lips lift into a smile. "It'll be the first thing on my to-do list tomorrow."

"I’m serious," Columbus says. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I admire you for your whole loyalty to the chicken. It's really, really endearing. But you can't just risk your life like that."

"I can do whatever I want with my life," Eduardo says, flippant and mildly annoyed. This isn't what he wants to be talking about right now.

Columbus opens his mouth, words being lost as he shuts his lips and frowns. There's something going on underneath the conversation, some layer of subtext that Eduardo's exhausted brain is just now beginning to pick up on. Eduardo's trying to formulate some response, a question or statement that will reveal what's going on, when Columbus steps forward. The tips of their shoes touch and Eduardo's bending his head to Columbus's before he can think.

"We shouldn't-" Eduardo starts before realizing he has substance to his claim. Instead, he lifts his hand and curls his fingers around Columbus's neck.

"We can do whatever you want," Columbus says. "I just need you to know, that no matter what strange relationship with barnyard creatures you have, that after all this time, after traveling with you and driving and sharing rooms and killing zombies and always beating you at I-Spy - I would be really upset if something happened to you."

"You'd be fine," Eduardo tries to say, but there's a lump in his throat and a clamp on his heart.

"No I really wouldn't. Before you, I didn't get attached to anyone. Even before the zombies I didn't let myself do that. And now that I have," Columbus shrugs and Eduardo tries not to see Mark in the action, "I just need you."

It's those last words, those words of _need_ that have Eduardo closing the distance between them and pressing his lips against Columbus's. It's not light and it's not delicate but Columbus returns the affection with equal force. They're already at the foot of the bed and Eduardo's pushing Columbus down on the comforter with one hand while working his jeans loose with the other. Columbus is obviously eager but there's something about the tentativeness in his hands and purse of his lips that has Eduardo stopping and asking, "Have you ever done this?"

"I don't know what this you're referring to."

Which Eduardo recognizes from Mark, as a way of getting out of answering a question.

"I just want you to feel good," Eduardo says and means every word.

"Oh, I feel good," Columbus says. His hands go to Eduardo's tie to undo the knot.

"I can make you feel a lot better," Eduardo promises. He doesn't want to push Columbus but as more and more pale skin is revealed, Eduardo can't seem to help himself. His fingers trace over collar and hipbones. His mouth follows the trail, leaving Columbus pliant and gasping beneath him.

"We should, you should," Columbus says, making crude hand gestures that have Eduardo laughing into the side of the other boy's neck.

"What do you want?"

"You should definitely, um, fuck me?"

Eduardo's grip tightens on Columbus's hips. "We don't have any lube," Eduardo says, "but there's other fun things we can do."

Columbus raises an eyebrow as Eduardo raises himself onto his elbows. He smiles at Columbus, slinking his way down the bed until he's situated between the boy's open knees. Columbus fights to breathe and Eduardo relishes the eyes and attention focused on him. He starts with a light grip around Columbus's cock. Their eyes stay locked together and Eduardo watches as the change in tempo or grip makes Columbus come undone. He catalogues every reaction and small desperate sound that Columbus makes.

"Please," Columbus begs and Eduardo doesn't make him spell it out.

Eduardo wets his lips, opening his mouth and wrapping them around Columbus's dick. His hands immediately go to Columbus's waist, pinning him to the bed and letting Eduardo control the rhythm. They're both too far gone for Eduardo to draw it out and he takes Columbus in as far as he can.

"Miami," Columbus breathes out, fisting his hand in Eduardo's hair.

That's not right, Eduardo thinks. His lips circle Columbus's dick again but it's not right. His body knows the motions. He knows what to do to make Columbus's back arch off the mattress. His body even knows what to do to make himself feel good as one hand wraps around his own dick. But it's wrong, it's all wrong.

"Fuck, Miami, you, I-"

Columbus screams his name, a name that isn't his, before coming down Eduardo's throat.

 

***

Eduardo wakes up alone in a hotel bed in California.

He doesn't sleep for the next three days.

It's not that difficult really. Eduardo's still in college. He's use to drowning Red Bull and cappuccinos in order to finish papers or group projects. He knows how to space out the caffeine with glasses of water or solid food to keep himself up but not jittery: lessons learned from being friends with programmers and gamers.

By the third day, though, Eduardo can feel himself unraveling.

He can't be in the conference room any longer. The room is too hot. It has too much sun and too many lawyers. It has Mark. Eduardo doesn't wait for permission before leaving, pushing past the glass doors like he remembers doing in Palo Alto, except this time he's running from Mark instead of confronting him. The memory of slamming the laptop and the memory of Mark's cock in his mouth blend together until he's not sure which is real. He stabs the elevator key, stepping inside and pressing the close door button. The doors are almost shut when a slim hand reaches in. One of Mark's lawyers steps in, smiling and wiggling inside.

It's the last thing Eduardo needs but he can't ask her to leave. They both press the button for the lobby. Eduardo closes his eyes and counts the dings to the lobby floor. Eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five. The beeps stop, no whirl of machinery or feeling of descent either. There's no movement or sound for a couple seconds and eventually Eduardo opens his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" Eduardo asks. "Did the elevator stop?"

"I stopped it," she says. "My name's Marilyn by the way."

"Why'd you stop it?"

"Well technically I stopped time but that stopped the elevator also."

Eduardo takes a couple of seconds to digest that. "You did what?"

"Time, I stopped it," she states. "It's really pretty simple. I figured you might need a moment after the encounter in the room. Pretty heavy stuff." She smiles at him like she's not crazy.

"Excuse me, but what?"

She steps closer and instinctively Eduardo steps back, molding himself against the wooden elevator paneling.

"You've been having dreams," Marilyn starts. "Dreams that aren't dreams. Ones that start when you're waking and end when you sleep."

"How do you know this?"

"Because I've been the one giving them to you."

Eduardo would never hit someone. He couldn't bring himself to strike Sean but for a wild moment he thinks about grabbing her and demanding answers. He keeps his hands to himself and she keeps quiet.

"Why did you do it?" Eduardo finally asks.

"To give you a choice."

"What choice?" Eduardo asks with desperation.

She smiles. It's small and sad, like the smile his mother would give him over his father's shoulder. "You have to decide, which world you want to be real."

"There's only one real world," Eduardo says and interjects, "and if you quote Hamlet at me I may scream."

She closes her mouth, more pleased than annoyed. "I don't think I have to convince you either way. You've been to another world. You've eaten its food and traveled its roads. You've talked to its people and breathed its air. You know it's real."

"It also has zombies," Eduardo says, as if the zombies are what really make the situation ridiculous.

She shrugs. "Nothing is perfect."

***

They sit across from one another. Eduardo's legs are curled to his chest, arms wrapped around his knees. Marilyn sits with her legs straight and jacket over her skirt. They've fallen quiet after round and round of circular logic. She's letting Eduardo just think but he can feel the weight of some invisible clock: the ticking in the back of his head.

"What will happen to me," Eduardo questions, "in whatever world I don't choose?"

"That depends. In this world, the one with depositions and Facebook, I'll arrange something. Blending universes and having great hair aren't my only skills. But the world with zombies and Columbus, I could only send you there because-" she trails off, looking at him with a sad expression.

"Because there wasn't a version of myself there already," Eduardo finishes. He can only imagine scenarios of his great-grandmother never having children or a version of himself being taken down by zombies. He shudders and refuses to think about it further. "So I'll just cease to exist there?"

"I don't make the rules, kid."

Eduardo can't seem to get a lock on her. She shifts back and forth, from the lawyer with a heart Eduardo has seen throughout the deposition, to a powerful but tired deity or mythical creature or whatever she is. Eduardo's a little afraid to ask.

"What about Columbus? Is he, I mean is he really - Mark?"

Her outstretched shoe kicks Eduardo's feet. "Have you ever thought about the difference between easiest and best?"

Eduardo shakes his head and moves his fingers to rub at his temples. There's a mounting headache Eduardo has no hopes of staving off. "When do you need to know?"

"You need to make a decision before getting off this elevator."

He takes a breath through his nose, standing up on wobbly legs. Marilyn follows him, watching with guarded eyes and keeping her hands to herself. Eduardo almost wants to ask her what she would do. But he has a feeling that's against the rules.

He thinks about flipping a coin but he already knows which side he hopes it lands on.

***

The elevator doors open and reveal Eduardo inside and alone. He steps out, feet moving quick and fast until he reaches the right door. The handle is locked so he brings up a hand and starts knocking.

A door opens down the hall and Dustin sticks his head out, "Holy shit Eduardo!" The door swings open and Dustin's arms are wrapped around Eduardo's frame. "What the fuck dude?"

Eduardo smiles at his friend, trying to unwind his arms to hug Dustin back. "Not that I don't appreciate the affection, but where's Columbus? I have something important to tell him."

Dustin finally lets him go. His smile is gone and something in Eduardo's chest drops. "Columbus is gone."

***

"He left the day after you did," Dustin explains. As usual, he's more levelheaded than Dustin who's simply in the corner looking sad. "You disappeared the night after we fought the zombies at the Bass Pro Shop. Dustin and I woke up that morning and Columbus was frantic. He said you'd left in the middle of the night. I thought you might have been ambushed getting supplies but Columbus thought you'd left on your own." Chris looks at Eduardo like he knows there's a story in there. "That was three days ago."

"We tried to convince him to stay," Dustin says. "But the next morning he was gone too. He took the chicken."

Chris pats Dustin's head.

"He left a note." Chris grabs a piece of paper and hands it over to Eduardo.

It's written on the hotel stationary in neat script:

 _I'm fine. Zombies didn't get me, or anything. I just think it's best if I leave. Am taking the chicken for company and not food._ There's several lines crossed out and scribbled over before finally, _If Eduardo comes back, tell him I'm sorry._ Underneath, there's no scribbles, just open space until at the very bottom Columbus has written, _The problem with getting attached to someone, is that when they leave you just feel lost._

***

"You guys know how to drive right?"

At first, Eduardo had seen it as one final irony. He'd chosen a world of zombies and destruction, not for the world but for the company, to only be left alone again. And then Eduardo had thought; he should really get off his ass and do something.

"We can drive," Chris says. "There's some cars in the hotel parking lot. We checked them out but we didn't want to leave in case you came back."

"Well I'm back," Eduardo says. "And we're going to find Columbus."

Dustin jumps off the bed, fist in the air. "Fuck yes, what's the plan?"

"We have extra maps right?"

Chris nods and brings over a pile of fold-out and flip maps.

"Okay," Eduardo starts, "we know his final destination is Harvard. We could just drive there but I'm worried that something might have happened to him along the way."

"So we split up?" Chris asks.

"One in each car. We find walkie-talkies to communicate, still staying within range of one another but just looking for the car or any signs of Columbus. We're only about seven hours away, we can get there before dark."

"And if Columbus isn't there?" Chris questions in a small voice.

"He'll be there," Eduardo states. "Grab your stuff, we're heading out."

***

"That is seriously the ugliest car ever," Chris says over the scratchy walkie-talkies.

"You're just jealous" Dustin says. The Humvee is bright yellow and an eye sore amongst the gentle nature of Connecticut.

"Dustin," Eduardo breaks in, "can you take route 15? Chris, you stay on 91 and I'll take 17 when it comes up. We can meet in Hartford."

"Roger that," Dustin says and honks his horn.

***

"Anything?" Eduardo questions. He's leaning against his modest sedan, waiting at the gas station for Chris to report in. Dustin lies across his yellow monstrosity, eating a Snickers and flipping through postcards.

Chris's eyes go to the floor and Eduardo knows he found something.

"At one of the off the road gas stations. There were a couple of freshly killed zombies. Looks like the shots came from Columbus's shotgun and all of them were double tapped."

"But Columbus?"

Chris shakes his head. "The car wasn't there."

"But we know he's going this way now." It's small but Eduardo knows Columbus is following the plan. It means he hasn't given up on Eduardo and that Eduardo hasn't completely lost him.

***

They pull onto school grounds as the sun sets. Eduardo doesn't bother with parking or roads and simply drives his sedan over the once manicured lawns. He can see Chris and Dustin's cars in the background. They hesitate but follow as Eduardo makes a beeline for Kirkland.

He jumps from his car onto the sidewalk. From the sidewalk, he races up the stairs and into their old room.

Columbus isn't in the bathroom or hiding behind a door. He's on the couch reading a book, in plain view with his feet on the old table.

"What?" Columbus says. "What are you doing here?"

Eduardo allows himself one smile, before collapsing next to Columbus and pulling his friend into a kiss.

***

Eduardo never knows that in another world he signs a non-disclosure and accepts five percent. He never knows that the next day he gets on a plane and disappears halfway across the world.

Mark never gets the chance to say -

***

"I missed you," Columbus says. "Where'd you go? I woke up and thought you'd left because of what we did." He makes a weird motion between the two of them that Eduardo can't help but find adorable.

"I'm sorry," Eduardo says. He pulls Columbus by the collar of his shirt. Eduardo wants his hands over every part of him. He wants to make sure the boy is real, that Columbus is in front of him and not across the country or a deposition table. "I had some things to take care of. But that's done."

"I just figured you didn't want to be with me. So you left."

Eduardo's lips find Columbus's. "If given a choice, I'll always choose you."

***

Eduardo never knows that Marilyn gives two weeks notice, changes her name, fakes a resume and starts a new job at a paper company. Her work is never done.

***

"You know what college students have a lot of?" Columbus asks, weeks later when they've settled into campus life.

The dorms are proving an excellent home base. The red brick and ancient structures are proving an excellent repellant to any attacks. Chris and Dustin have rooms across the hall. The chicken has a single next to them.

Eduardo shakes his head while still trying to kiss the other man.

"A lot of lube," Columbus says.

Eduardo's hands immediately start going for buttons and zippers.

***

Eduardo never knows that in another world, it's Mark who gets to make the decision.

***

"I think you should know," Columbus begins. His fingers flex into Eduardo's hair and Eduardo follows the movement like a wanting cat. "I want you to know my name, my real name. It's Mark."

Eduardo smiles, leans into the kiss and says, "Nice to meet you Mark, I'm Eduardo."


End file.
